


Plan for all Emergencies

by hightechzombie



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Sticky Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, co-captain meetings gone wrong, or gone totally right depending on your idea of a good time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:36:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4790951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hightechzombie/pseuds/hightechzombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Co-captain meetings are all about cooperation. Or the lack of it. Anyway, nobody was really sure what their point was, therefore no harm in derailing, is there?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plan for all Emergencies

It kinda came as a surprise that Rodimus and Megatron actually did some planning during their first "strategy" meeting and it was a miracle that they came to agreement on most matters. No less surprising was the fact, that these meetings became a regular part of their routine.

An unexpected - although not totally unforeseen - effect of these come-togethers was that Rodimus was forced to do actual planning of his own. It meant work; reading reports, checking up on people and inspecting the state of the ship. It was all the things that Drift used to do, and the things that somehow fell between the cracks after his departure. It meant thinking ahead and wrecking his brain for possible weaknesses, as well as improvements that could be made.

The first couple times, Rodimus had winged it without much preparation. After all, he knew this ship and the crew better than Megatron, and it kinda worked during the first meetings... but every time Megatron noticed that Rodimus wasn't aware of new developments - Perceptor's laser project, the broken lightning in Sector B-4 or the current repairs on minor shield problems -, the blasted old-timer always made sure to smirk condescendingly and say something patronizing and insulting.

Being humiliated was not something Rodimus enjoyed. This means he was forced to come prepared and accumulate ammunition of his own. He’d mention news he picked up from the crew, like Mainframe’s request for new processors or the new-found caches of weapon that got bought and later lost in storage. The reward? Watching Megatron frown and then thoughtfully examine Rodimus, as if seeing him in totally new light.

Gradually, the meetings turned from vicious verbal battles to friendly sparring matches. The conversations that once left Rodimus angry and sore, now felt like a challenge and welcome opportunity to prove himself.

He wondered sometimes whether this was Megatron's plan all along, an attempt to teach him how to hold his ground...? Or maybe the old man finally accepted him as an equal. Rodimus preferred the later interpretation.

It was a meeting just like any other. Rodimus has spread out a map of Lost Light and began marking the sections with sharpies.

"Does this serve a point?" asked Megatron, frowning.

"Yes. Blue stands for easily detachable sub-sections that can be discarded into space. The red are the vital systems that keep the ship afloat. The green are the population clusters..."

"You couldn't have done that before the meeting?"

"I did, but the former map turned out to be too small and it became a mess. Now just let me finish this..."

Rodimus put his knee on the table and half-climbed it to reach the furthest edge of the map. Yes, this was turning out beautiful. He sank back to the ground and began annotating the sections with small arrows and notes. This was going to be his strategical masterpiece, a thing of such importance and magnificence, that one might as well put it immediately in a museum.

Megatron had been silent and was letting Rodimus do his job so far. Now he had stepped closer to read the annotations. Like yeah, the attention was flattering, but it became harder to move around the map without bumping into Megs' bulky frame. It's was a good thing that Rodimus was pretty agile and stretchy for a bot his size.

When Rodimus was lying on his chest on the desk, doodling... no, not doodling, Rodimus was adding more details to the map, Megatron had put his arm down, now basically hovering above Rodimus. Of course, Megatron should definitely feast his eyes on the masterpiece that Rodimus created and get as close as he likes, but now Rodimus was basically trapped between his arm and body, limiting his movement. Most likely Megs didn't intend it, but it felt way too close and strangely intimidating.

Doodling more slowly now, Rodimus thought about the possible line of action. Sure, if Rodimus stood up now, Megatron would shirk away. He didn't like being touched and endured even accidental contact with gritted teeth. But normally, Megs also kept his distance to stay out of Rodimus' reach...

Several things influenced what Rodimus did next. One, Megatron was all bark and no bite. What's the worst he could do? Two, the meetings had bred a sense of familiarity that was hard to shake. Three, Rodimus hadn't interfaced in months and had really began to miss his and Drift's weekly frag sessions.

Therefore Rodimus slightly moved to the right, now sketching on a new section of the map, all for the goal of letting his leg touch Megatron's. There was no reaction. Emboldened, Rodimus moved again and was now snugly fit against Megatron. Whenever Rodimus began sketching, it would slightly brush against Megatron, almost touching the section between his legs. It felt exhilarating to play such a dangerous, stupid game. Rodimus felt his energon grow hotter and hotter due to the sheer audacity of his actions.

Megatron removed his hand, rising to stand up in full height. A pang of disappointment that the fun was over and the anticipation of reprisal came over Rodimus.

But instead of taking a step back or snapping at him, Megatron placed his hand on Rodimus hip and slightly pressed him closer. Rodimus suppressed a gasp, as his charge jumped like crazy. This was happening. This was really happening.

 

***

 

If anyone asked Megatron whether he’d frag Rodimus, the answer would have been a clear “No”. But Rodimus didn’t ask. He just started rubbing himself “accidentally” while Megatron was distracted and by then it was kinda too late to pull back.

In truth, one could still walk away. Even now, Megatron could stop caressing Rodimus’ hip and act as if nothing had happened. But it was such a rare thing to see Rodimus docile and quiet. One could almost hope that fragging him would make this change permanent. A slim chance, but one worth a try.

Megatron let his hand slip down, tracing the thin line between the plating, before stopping between Rodimus’ legs and nudging the valve plate. Rodimus gasped and spread his legs, leaning himself against the table. Slowly rubbing the thin plating, Megatron watched Rodimus close his eyes, succumbing to sensation.

The energon lines on Rodimus’ frame were flaring bright and Megatron could physically feel the plating heat up under his hand. What was his name once upon a time? Hot Rod? Well, it certainly fit him.

Megatron’s finger suddenly stumbled on something wet. The interfacing array had opened up. Megatron tried not to rush it, just caressing the outlines of the valve and letting the plate retract fully. Rodimus was making needy noises and nudging his hips against Megatron. It made Megatron draw short on breath, realizing how much his own charge had built up.

The soft lining of the valve pulsated under Megatron’s intruding finger. He pressed it against the walls of the valve, to gauge how much more Rodimus could take, but also to tease a response out of Rodimus. He didn’t disappoint. His spine arched back and Rodimus let out a rumbling, soft moan.

Frankly, by now one could think that it was Rodimus who had gone through centuries of abstinence, and not Megatron. But there was no complaints from Megatron. It was very pleasing to watch someone who clearly lusted to be touched.

Megatron nudged another finger into Rodimus, gave his valve some time to adjust by thrusting gently a few times, and then rammed in hard. Rodimus screamed out.  

“You… you…” stuttered Rodimus without breath. Then he quietly laughed, steadying himself with both hands against the desk.

A reaction that very well suited Megatron. He preferred it rough, especially when doing a bot as insolent as Rodimus.

Megatron forcefully thrusted his fingers inside Rodimus. Hot and slick, there was almost no friction and it easily took up three, then four fingers. By then the valve was generously dripping fluid on the floor and Megatron took care it wouldn’t land on him. Rodimus was moaning, the desk shaking under him. Megatron wondered for how long he should keep this going before switching to spike. His impatience and steadily rising charge told him to do it immediately, but Megatron didn’t want this to end too soon. One had to do this type of things slowly and deliberately...

Noticing that Rodimus went quiet, Megatron looked up to and stopped thrusting.

“What in the Pit are you doing?!”

“Err, drawing? Just realized there’s something… ah, missing here.” Rodimus pointed towards to a newly added arrow.

Megatron had no words for this.

“You are doodling while I’m fragging you?!”

“Actually, as far as I’m concerned, we are still at foreplay. So I don’t see…”

With a growl, Megatron flipped over Rodimus on his back and pinned his hands above his head.

“Is your attention span too short even for a frag? Primus, don’t even answer. We’ll do it this way then…”

Rodimus began winding himself in Megatron’s grip.

“We are not doing this on my map. I worked hard on it, so at least let me get it off the desk before…”

“Who cares about your map?”

“Look, I will make this very painful for you if you disrespect my map…”

Megatron glared at Rodimus. Rodimus glared back. This wasn’t going anywhere.

“Fine,” snorted Megatron and released Rodimus. “Get your precious drawings off the desk so we can get to business.”

Kneading his hands, Rodimus begrudgingly came down on the floor and carefully folded together the map. Not minding the interface fluid running down his legs, Rodimus walked around the desk to put his map into the seat.

For Megatron, interfacing meant a level of intimacy that one rarely reached otherwise. This... exposed state often made interactions awkward or uneasy, but Rodimus seemed completely unfazed. A few moments ago he was lying sprawled on the desk, valve exposed and just begging to be fragged, and now Rodimus even had the nerve to pout because of his map. Megatron had never met anyone like Rodimus, and hoped that it would stay that way.

"Are you done?"

"Yes, sir," said Rodimus sarcastically, returning to Megatron’s side. "Reporting for frag duty, sir."

Megatron smiled, wondering whether he should throttle Rodimus first or just throw the bot against the table and frag him. Before Megatron had decided, Rodimus already made his move. With a grin, Rodimus came in close and said "Here goes nothing" and kissed him.

A hot tongue invaded Megatron's mouth, while curious hands were wandering around his neck and waist. Surprised, Megatron let this happen without reproach before coming to his senses. Then Megatron grabbed Rodimus head and returned a forceful kiss. Rodimus first halted, then tried to break away. Megatron let it happen, but not before biting Rodimus' lip as a lesson.

"Primus," spit out Rodimus, "That was... Your taste is awful. Really awful. I need to wash my mouth..."

Megatron was about to snarl back, but realized that Rodimus wasn't joking. Rodimus was spitting on the ground, truly desperate to get the taste out.

"Well, that is your own blasted fault," muttered Megatron. "Feed me better energon rather than that poison you give me, and you might be able to kiss me without needing a rinsing bucket."

"Riiight," drew out Rodimus. "I totally forgot. And here I was thinking that it's just your evil aura curling up your energon fluid."

Megatron snorted. This was typical. Rodimus always charged head first and then blamed everyone around him for the situation going wrong.

"They should put up signs: 'Don't kiss the dictator, he tastes like slag.' Gah, why did I do this..."

"Because you are an idiot. As for the signs, everyone was just lining up to kiss me before you came along."

Rodimus laughed, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

"Alright, fair point. Anyway, the energon talk gives me an idea! Since you are in a weakened state, it means your stamina has taken a hit and therefore..."

"What are you implying?" growled Megatron.

"I am just suggesting that you lie down on the table to avoid tiring yourself out and..."

"I am NOT getting spiked by you."

"That's not what I am suggesting. You lie down, I ride your spike long and hard to our mutual satisfaction. Sounds like a plan?"

Megatron begrudgingly nodded. Most likely Rodimus was just trying to get the initiative back in his hands, but he had a point. Megatron’s last refueling was a day ago, and it would have been most inconvenient to run out of energy during interfacing.

Rodimus was making a fidgety and excited impression. Megatron had barely laid down, as Rodimus was already climbing on him, stroking and curiously examining Megatron's frame, as if he was seeing it for the first time. Just as his hands were exploring the body, Rodimus was almost absent-mindedly rubbing his valve against Megatron’s plating. Megatron felt the interface fluid drip through the gaps of his plates and run down his leg joints. Everything that Rodimus did was messy and chaotic… and by Primus, it was turning him on.

Megatron placed his hands on Rodimus’ hips and increased the pressure. The valve was now rubbing hard against his spike plate. Rodimus satisfied “Mhmm” sounded at the same time as the roaring of his fans. The bot certainly did not hide his pleasure.

“Question. Am I still gonna see your spike today… or… ah, mhmm… or should I reschedule for tomorrow?”

How could have Megatron been naive enough to believe that Rodimus would remain quiet during interfacing? What hubris lead him to believe that this hotbed of trouble could be fragged into obeisance? This should be a lesson for the future: don’t frag shameless bots that never shut up.

“We do this at my pace. You wanted this to last, didn’t you?”

“Megs, you are a real bore.” Rodimus rocked on Megatron’s hips a few times, softly moaning. Then, slowly a grin a appeared on his face: “Or are you shy? Not ready to show your spike just yet?”

“You are ridiculous…”

“Shush, Megs, I know what to do in this case…”

Megatron just sighed. When Rodimus has set something in his head, it was impossible to change his mind.

“Now let’s do it this way: I show you mine and you show me yours...”

With a cocky, unbearable smile, Rodimus lifted himself up to appear in full sight. Rodimus let his hands glide from the chest to his hips, while his plate retracted to bare the tip of his spike. As the spike pressurized, Rodimus kept stroking it, looking with a smile Megatron right in the eye. Rodimus clearly enjoyed performing for the gaze of others.

“Like what you see?”

Megatron couldn’t believe Rodimus immaturity and utter lack of shame. As for the spike, by Primus, it was just a regular spike. There was golden flame motive running up to the tip, but it looked not by half as tacky as one would expect from a show-off as Rodimus.

“Not as much a lightshow as it could have been. Thankfully.”

“Coming from you, that was almost a compliment.”

“It wasn’t one…”

Rodimus rolled his eyes and pushed his hips forward.

“Well, if the spike wasn’t an argument enough, then let me show you more.”

Rodimus leaned back, placing his hips on Megatron chest and fully exposing his valve. Smiling innocently, Rodimus caressed the valve with a finger, fully knowing that Megatron wouldn’t be able to look away.

“So wet and soft… begging for something, but what could it be..?”

Now Rodimus put two fingers inside the valve and stretched it open, letting Megatron see inside. Interface fluid was streaming from it right on Megatron’s chest. This was really wrong. Rodimus let the fingers glide inside and moaned, thrusting and maintaining eye contact at all time. Megatron’s fans were hissing deep below his plating, failing to cool him down.

“I think fingers are not enough,” whispered Rodimus. “My valve needs something big… something really big and hard…”

Megatron wasn’t a fan of dirty talk during interfacing. Usually. He didn’t even remember giving a conscious order for his spike panel to retract. It just happened on its own.

Rodimus was still playing with his valve, back turned on Megatron’s pressurizing spike. One thing left to do, before Rodimus noticed that he’d gotten what he wanted.

Megatron took Rodimus by hindquarters and pulled him closer. Rodimus yelped, almost falling down. Ignoring his protests, Megatron firmly grabbed him by the legs and licked the wet valve. Rodimus gasped, and stopped struggling. He was lying limp on Megatron’s frame, while Megatron traced his tongue against the soft insides of the valve. It quivered under the touch. Penetrating the valve with his tongue, Megatron found a spot a vibrating spot that was tickling his tongue. He circled it, before redrawing from the valve.

“Ah…” gasped Rodimus, “that was… pretty unexpected.”

“You got a taste of me,” answered Megatron with a crooked smile, “but I don’t think I got a good taste of you.”

Rodimus breathlessly laughed, winding himself under Megatron’s teasing tongue. Speaking of taste, he was almost sweet. An unusual blend of aroma and one Megatron rather liked. He put his mouth against the valve, sucking and licking the soft texture.

“Don’t get greedy,” murmured Rodimus. “Isn’t this against protocol? Doesn’t interface fluid break your energon diet or something..?”

“Ask Ultra Magnus, if you want. Or wait, and hope that I won’t suck out all your juices and go on a spark eating spree.”

Rodimus lifted his head.

“Did we watch the same holovid or something? Cause there is a naughty, naughty interfacing flick with the same plot…”

Megatron slowly said:

“Rodimus, how do you listen to yourself speak and never feel the urge to put a fist through your own mouth?”

“It’s a gift,” yawned Rodimus and turned his head to the right, with interest examining Megatron’s spike which was inches away from his mouth.  “Anyway, to more interesting matters…”

Rodimus licked the spike, then gently sucked from the side. Whether this was a diversion or Rodimus simply changed his mind, Megatron didn’t know. Either way, moments later, Rodimus impatiently kicked his legs free, almost hitting Megatron’s face in the process, and climbed over to place himself between Megatron’s own legs.

“Looks bigger from this angle,” said Rodimus, examining and caressing the spike with unusual concentration. “I mean, I’ve seen bigger ones. But the the width of the thing… might be a tight fit.”

Megatron was about to respond, but Rodimus took up the tip in his mouth and began sucking. Words became irrelevant. Why talk when one could lean back and fully focus on the hot mouth around his spike? The touch was almost scalding, and made it hard to think.

A warm hand wrapped itself around the base of the spike, pumping up and down. Waves of pleasure came over Megatron. Rodimus tongue applied the exact right amount of pressure, he knew exactly when to let go and when to suck harder. Megatron let out a deep moan, when the tongue flicked over his bio-lights. By the Pit, this was good. Megatron stretched his hand to find Rodimus’ head and caress it. One of the wordless way to express his satisfaction.

Rodimus either didn’t notice or didn’t mind the head pat. He kept going at the spike with endless energy, finding new ways to bring pleasure. Megatron was breathing heavily, feeling the charge spread to his entire body.

Then suddenly, Rodimus stopped. With an indignant “Mhhmm!”, Rodimus released the spike and spit to the side. Interface fluid was dripping from his mouth.

“Why do I keep repeating…” Rodimus spit out again, “the same blasted mistakes?”

“Because you are…”

“Alright, don’t finish it. You still taste awful, by the way.”

Megatron felt the temptation to press Rodimus head down and push the spike into his hot, wet mouth, no matter the consequences. The blowjob felt too good to let go. But there was no point in trying to force his will unto Rodimus. He was too stubborn and too proud to submit.

When Megatron took him by the chin, Rodimus tried to flinch away, but Megatron didn’t let that happen. Wiping the interface fluid from Rodimus’ lips, Megatron slowly brought the finger up to his own mouth to suck it clean.

“Not so bad,” concluded Megatron. “Especially compared to the energon you give me. Doesn’t poison you either, so stop complaining. It was time you got a taste of your own medicine.”

Rodimus rolled back his head, full of indignation.

“You always focus on the small stuff, Megs. Learn to let go. Stop being vindictive. Embrace the Autobot way of doing things.”

Megatron snorted.

“Does it include blowjobs?”

“Oh, it includes much more than that,” Rodimus grinned. “Just let me show you…”

Rodimus pulled up, bringing his hips close to Megatron’s. Even Rodimus spike felt hot to the touch. Megatron shortly wondered whether there was something wrong with Hot Rod’s cooling systems? The bot clearly wasn’t operating at maximum efficiency with this temperature, although maybe it was just a quirk of the way Rodimus was built…

Squeezing their spikes together, Rodimus moved his hips up and down. What this move lacked in sensual pleasure, it made up in visual thrill. Rodimus’ spike was magnetizing sight; only a half of Megatron’s size, but elegant and with red and golden light flaring bright along its ridges. It rubbed along Megatron’s spike, leaking interface fluid and leaving a pink trail on the grey surface.

Megatron could easily cover Rodimus’ entire spike with his fist, if he wanted. He imagine how Rodimus would react if Megatron did just that and _squeezed_. Arching back and a loud moan, probably. Primus, Megatron loved the way Rodimus moaned. He wanted to hear it again.

Rodimus let go the spikes and lifted himself up, to casually brush his valve against Megatron’s spike. Then again. With that same cocky grin as he’d worn it before. Blasted tease. Megatron wanted to impale Rodimus and make him scream, but… patience. Patience was needed.

With quickened breath, Megatron watched Rodimus’ hips move back and forth. From time to time, Rodimus would rest on tip of the spike and nudge it into his valve, just enough to make Megatron believe that Rodimus would finally let himself be penetrated… but then the hips would begin circling again.

“I’ve been thinking…” said Rodimus, with dim optics and valve rubbing against Megatron’s spike. “Should bring energon for next time. Pour it over your spike. Then lick it clean. Should help against the taste.”

“How about you bring a gag next to shut yourself up,” growled Megatron, then after a few moments added with apprehension. “Wait... what blasted _‘next time’_ are you talking about?!”

Rodimus smiled and left him without response. Instead, he impaled himself on Megatron’s spike in one hard thrust. They moaned in unison: Megatron sounding low and guttural, while Rodimus’ moan was a glitched scream.

Shortly halting to catch his breath, Rodimus began moving up and down. His optics had gone dark and more glitched, pleasured noises were coming from his vocalizer. The valve could only take up the half of Megatron’s spike, but it seemed to be fully enough to drive Rodimus incoherent.

Megatron placed his hands on Rodimus waist supporting him. The bio-light strips tingled under his fingers, passing on the electrical charge from Rodimus. Megatron waited a few moments, before sharply pushing his hips up and holding Rodimus down.

Rodimus yelped in pain and tried to get Megatron’s hands of him. After thrusting two more times, Megatron eventually let go. By now, Rodimus looked huffed, unhappy and bit betrayed.

“What the Pit…” spit out Rodimus, ”do this again and I…”

“It is necessary,” cut off Megatron, “three painful thrusts, then back to normal. Then again. Pain signals to expand the valve… one would think you’d know this.”

Rodimus’ expression went dark and he hit Megatron on his stomach plates. It didn’t hurt.

“Don’t frag dictators, they’re all sadistic bastards. Go and put you head into slag, buckethead. Honestly, who even frags with a bucket on their head? You are…”

“Calm down.”

Rodimus squinted threateningly.

“Take off the bucket.”

“The helmet? Why do you care about the helmet?” Rodimus just squinted harder instead of responding. “Just stop throwing a fuss.”

Megatron removed the helmet and dropped it to the floor. The hostility on Rodimus’ face changed to curiosity and he reached out a hand, which Megatron swatted away.

“What’s up with the red thingies?”

“They are called quills and there is nothing ‘up’ with them.”

“Looks exactly like the things on top of Lost Light…”

“Nothing like it. Can’t we get back to interfacing?”

“Oh, right,” Rodimus climbed back on the spike, and threw a dark glance towards Megatron. “Next time, you warn me. Or I will just…”

“Alright, my apologies,” muttered Megatron. “I thought you had no problems with pain during interfacing.”

“I don’t… look, it depends.” Rodimus stared blank for a few times before saying. “I struggle against you, you let go. Immediately. I say stop, you stop. But you just kept thrusting…”

“Alright, alright. My fault.”

Megatron hadn’t felt as if he was doing any wrong at the time, but he didn’t expect Rodimus to mind this much, either. In any case, this was not a conversation Megatron had any interest repeating ever again. He placed a hand on Rodimus’ thigh and caressed it, while Rodimus slowly sank down on his spike.

Rodimus was warming himself up, taking up more and more of the spike with every hip thrust. Biting his lip, Rodimus looked concentrated and flustered. Hiis valve was stretched almost to maximum, fit tight against the spike. Then suddenly Rodimus moaned, as his valve spasmed and send a wave of pleasure through Megatron. Hot liquid was now running down the spike.

As Megatron had known, Rodimus’ valve was expanding. The vibrating sensation against his spike made Megatron let out a rumbling moan. Yes, yes… Rodimus seemed to notice the change as well, tentatively forcing his hips lower and lower. He was now taking up almost Megatron’s entire spike. Throwing head back, Rodimus began riding the spike at a frantic pace, moaning like a turbofox in heat.

Rodimus was almost unbearably hot inside. A normal bot’s energon would have been close to boiling right now. It felt as if Rodimus was setting him on fire, making Megatron forget all words and stopping all thought mid-track. The pleasure was on the verge of pain, overloading his senses.

The valve spasmed one last time, and Rodimus gasped, as his hips slid down to the very base of Megatron’s spike.

“Ahh… yes…” moaned Rodimus, rocking back-and-forth on Megatron’s hips. His optics were offline and Rodimus looked oblivious to anything but the big spike inside him, filling him up like nothing before in life.

Rodimus’ open mouth looked tantalizingly soft and Megatron couldn’t but imagine roughly kissing him again, making Rodimus moan and struggle against him again. Megatron breathed out, trying to cool down. He lifted Rodimus by the waist and began thrusting again his eager, hot valve. The bot was just making approving, incoherent sounds as a response. Megatron liked him this way, like a willing puppet in his hands.

Then Rodimus activated his optics, and looked at Megatron. It wasn’t bothering Megatron, he couldn’t care less whether Rodimus was watching or not. But Rodimus smiled at him. The earnesty of it made Megatron look away. This was… no, it wasn’t embarrassing.  But why would you smile during interfacing?

Megatron found again his rhythm, after stumbling for a few moments. Rodimus leaned back, uttering pleasured sounds and a hand resting on Megatron’s breastplate. It always struck him as remarkable how utterly at ease Rodimus was, regardless of the situation he was in. A certain simple-mindedness that both frustrated Megatron and yet was strangely appealing.

Was it the mix of looks, confidence and stupid luck that helped Rodimus retain his rank as a captain? This self-assured attitude that made people ignore his flaws? Primus, maybe it was just the fact that he was easy to look at. The sleek lines, the fiery red and golden accents that drew the eye… an outrageous look that would have looked out of place for anyone but Rodimus.

“Megs… I’m close to… ah, overload.”

Megatron thrusted slower and asked: “So?”  

Rodimus sighed and lifted himself up. Megatron’s spike felt exposed and bare without the tight valve pressing around it.

“Give me a moment to cool down… and we’ll go back to it again.”

“Showing restraint - _now_?”

Murmuring something unintelligible in response, Rodimus sat down and stroked Megatron’s spike. Despite his own talk about “cooling down”, Megatron felt how Rodimus was subtly rubbing his valve against Megatron’s leg. About as much restraint as could be expected from Rodimus. At least he kept pleasuring Megatron, hands gliding up and down the spike.

“By the way,” said Rodimus, optics going online and flaring bright, “since we got a free moment, I’ve always wanted to ask…”

“A question of my own,” interrupted Megatron. “I understand that it is impossible to shut you up. But why in the Pit do you feel the need to talk right during interfacing?”

“If my mouth is unoccupied otherwise, why not talk?”

“And focusing on the interfacing itself is not an option?”

“I can do both at the same time. It’s called multi-tasking, dear Megatron.”

“Don’t use that tone. And especially don’t ‘dear’ me.”

“Whatever you say, Megs. But to return to my original inquiry: What’s up with the whirly thingies?” Rodimus pointed towards Megatron’s chest.

“Decorative,” shortly answer Megatron.

“Oh I see. Good old Megatron is vain about his appearance…”

“Coming from you…”

“Coming from me that’s almost praise, I know. But I mean, no hidden meaning? No deep symbolism? I thought that maybe the whirls stood for the turbulence of life or something...”

“Please never try looking for metaphors again,” said Megatron with closed eyes. “It’s really not your strength.”

“But blowjobs are?”

“Oh they certainly are,” Megatron opened his eyes. “The most admirable thing about them is that they keep you quiet.”

“Ouch. And here I thought you appreciated the magic of my mouth and tongue…”

“Well-appreciated, but once again - the silence was particularly charming.”

Rodimus snorted and pushed his hips up. It seems Rodimus decided he had sufficiently cooled down. He caressed Megatron’s spike, before guiding it inside his valve and descending on it. It went smoothly, since the valve was slick and loose. Megatron held back a moan, feeling the valve wrap around the spike. Rodimus, however, was not holding back. Gasping with pleasure, he began riding the spike with great fervor. Megatron eyed him, feeling once again surprised how unguarded Rodimus was. For all the verbal jabs they threw at each other, Rodimus was not fighting for domination during interfacing. He really was just here to have fun.

Megatron placed a hand of Rodimus’ spike and rubbed the tip. It was hard to get a good grip as the hips were moving at a frantic pace, but as Rodimus slowed down for Megatron’s sake, it became easier to stroke the spike. Interface liquid sputtered from it, which Megatron spread along the length of the spike. Rodimus purred as Megatron’s hand slid up and down, first gently, and then with more pressure. Megatron pumped the spike, watching Rodimus’ pant hard and close his eyes.

“Rodimus?”

“Yeah…?”

“Switch positions?”

Eyes half-closed, Rodimus nodded. He seemed to be fine with any suggestion as long as he continued getting spiked.

Megatron did not waste any time, flipping Rodimus right on his back. Now Rodimus was lying below him and eying Megatron with lazy curiosity. Megatron pulled up Rodimus legs and put them on his shoulders before sharply penetrating the valve. Rodimus moaned with pleasure, wrapping his hands around Megatron’s neck. The air of the exhaust pipes was came up hot against Megatron’s shoulder wiring.

In this position, Megatron could put more of his spike inside Rodimus. Even better, it allowed him to thrust at his own pace, harder and faster than when he was lying on the back. The table was shaking under his movements. Rodimus’ voice glitched again, his moans were guttural and full of static.

Rodimus’ open mouth was glistening, so close and alluring. Megatron placed a thumb the lower lip and slowly traced it. Rodimus allowed it for a few moments, before catching the thumb in his mouth and sucking on it. Looking Megatron in the eye, Rodimus then licked the finger and demonstratively sucked on it again. Megatron smirked and began pounding the valve harder.

When Rodimus gasped, Megatron added more fingers and rubbed against the insides of the mouth. Accepting the challenge, Rodimus sucked on them as well, and the licked and teased them with the tongue. He had a very agile tongue. It was only too bad that kissing Rodimus was out of question. At least, not directly...

Megatron extracted the fingers and licked off the drops of fluid. The way Rodimus looked with longing at the dripping wet fingers made Megatron smirk again. Then he grabbed Rodimus head, pulled him to the side and leaned down to kiss his neck. Rodimus seemed to freeze in surprise, feeling as Megatron’s tongue caressed the sensitive wiring. Then, Megatron felt the rumbling of the vocal circuits beneath. It seems Rodimus was quietly laughing. For a moment, Megatron felt alarmed and hostile - was Rodimus mocking him, challenging him? - and almost bit the neck, but then foreign hands started gently stroking his shoulders.

Megatron forced himself to relax. Rodimus was just pleasantly surprised, and nothing suggested that he needed to be taken down a notch. Megatron kept kissing and licking the neck, still feeling on edge. He took it out on the valve, thrusting hard enough to make Rodimus whimper. It did not prevent Rodimus’ hands from wandering all over his upper body, though.

“Stop it,” growled Megatron.

Rodimus moaned something unintelligible, still going at it.  

“Leave...  the damn quills alone,” panted Megatron.

“I like them,” breathed out Rodimus.

Megatron tried to shake off Rodimus’ hand, but it didn’t work. The bot kept caressing the crystalline growths. Not as if it hurt or as if it was unpleasant, but the quills had a habit of breaking more easily than steel. Megatron disliked anyone touching them. The caresses were gentle, but Rodimus had a talent for breaking _everything_ and the proximity made Megatron nervous for obvious reasons.

But in the end, Megatron didn’t care enough to take more forceful measures to stop Rodimus. Besides, with Rodimus short attention span he’ll get distracted soon enough and find some new body part to fidget with.

There, now Rodimus began stroking Megatron’s jaw.

“Megs… about to overload… don’t stop…”

Megatron wasn’t going to. He was fragging Rodimus hard and fast. The pleasure came in waves, spreading through his whole body. How long had it been since he felt so good? Only battles delivered a similar thrill, allowed to lose yourself in the primal instincts. Letting go of control was always a relief, but unlike battle, interfacing served no purpose. It was an indulgence, which Megatron cut down once he realized it proved itself too distracting.

But now… there couldn’t be distractions enough. There was no war to lead. No army to look up to him. Only exile. A quest for Knight of Cybertron with a crew that loathed him and far too much free time on his hands, time that would be otherwise spend thinking and brooding. Frankly, Megatron was tired of it. He wanted to frag someone senseless, make them scream and moan. The fact that it was his “co-captain” doing the moaning only improved matters.

Fragging Rodimus felt by now like lying on a bed of hot coals. The roaring fans of his were barely making a difference on the temperature. Rodimus panted, short on breath. Was he truly alright? This was not how a mech at maximum efficiency should look like.

Rodimus let out a scream and pushed his hips up. His hands gripped Megatron’s shoulder plates with unusual strength. The scream devolved into static filled gibberish, as Rodimus’ optics first flickered and then went offline. A beautiful overload if Megatron ever saw one.

As Rodimus’ body went slack, Megatron fixed the legs which were about to slip from his shoulders and continued to frag the valve. Yeah, as much Megatron wanted Rodimus to be more docile and passive, doing an offline bot wasn’t nearly as much fun. Megatron missed the noises Rodimus made and the way he’d move in response.

Come to think of it, Megatron couldn’t decide whether he wanted Rodimus silent or loud, obedient or the opposite. Everything that Megatron hated about Rodimus also made him want to frag him into the ground. But it was a moot point, was it not? Rodimus did what he wanted and trying to change him was an monumental and doomed undertaking.

The first signs of a system reboot: Rodimus twitched. He stayed motionless for the next moments, before the whole body tensed before relaxing. Optics slowly flickered to life. Rodimus shook his head and then laid still until his eyes regained clarity.

“You close to overload?” asked Rodimus.

“Not yet.”

“Take your time,” yawned Rodimus. He began again stroking and exploring Megatron’s body with a lazy curiosity. Megatron barely felt it, as his attention was fully with interfacing array. His charge was muddying his thoughts, barely anything else got through. Nothing except for the pleasure.

Rodimus still gasped in response to the hard thrusts, but now he was more distant. He still assisted Megatron in getting off, moved the hips forward and rubbed the joint lining, the bio-lights, any of the few sensitive spots that could be found on Megatron’s upper body. But Rodimus heart wasn’t really into, one could see it. Megatron felt that Rodimus was looking at him and thinking, as if he was evaluating. Megatron didn’t like being observed like this. Time to get it over with.

It always took some time before Megatron overloaded. He was built sturdy, his miner body not supposed to be sensitive to stimuli and Megatron could take a damn lot before he reached his limits. For interfacing, it meant that he could keep going almost forever. Now, Megatron was thrusting hard and fast to accelerate the process. Willing, soft, eager… memories of how Rodimus tasted came up, how he teasingly smiled, or how he opened his legs with a moan to let Megatron finger his valve. The wordless offer to interface still surprised Megatron… and it also greatly pleased him.

Megatron leaned down to Rodimus and grabbed his jaw. Rodimus did not struggle when Megatron roughly kissed him, even responded with the agile tongue of his. Megatron soon broke off the kiss, knowing that Rodimus would indulge him only for so long. Still, it was enough to push Megatron over the edge. The electric tide of an overload came crashing down, the mind-numbing euphoria and paralyzing embrace of pleasure. Megatron undid his grip on Rodimus just in time before his systems went offline.

The disorientation of a reboot was always followed by a surge of circuit boosters. Was he knocked unconscious in battle? Lying on operating table? It took a few moments before Megatron remembered where he was and that the panic was uncalled for.

Then Megatron felt being flipped over and landing on his back on the ground. The impact made the floor tremble.

“What in the..?!”

“Ah, you’re back online.” Rodimus had peeked over the table. “Sorry. Your weight was crushing me and since you were unresponsive, I took the matter in my own hands.”

Megatron closed his eyes and touched the back of the head. At least the quills didn’t break. This incident was another good reminder that Rodimus was impatient, irresponsible and utterly disgraceful excuse for a “captain” and that interfacing with him was an idiotic idea that…

“Megs, say something. Did I kill you?”

Megatron felt a weight press down on him.

“You’re getting there, but not yet,” growled Megatron and opened his eyes to find Rodimus sitting on him. “Also, get off me.”

“I’m tired,” grinned Rodimus before sprawling on Megatron’s frame, “and you are gonna let me rest for a bit, aren’t you?

Was the table not good enough for him? Did he really have to use Megatron as his bed? What was going on in Rodimus’ head? Megatron considered throwing the bot to the ground and off himself, but his exhaustion made itself felt. Additionally, Rodimus was warm and his fans purred like those of a turbofox. Megatron supposed, he could endure Rodimus’ presence for a few more minutes,

“What’s the last time you had a good time like this, Megs?” Rodimus laid down head on arms, examining Megatron.

Megatron grimaced.

“Can you believe that I really thought that you would shut up during interfacing? Really thought that it would be just a frag and blissful silence?”

“Oh my…” drew out Rodimus. “That sure misfired didn’t it?”

Megatron was tempted to wipe the smug grin of Rodimus’ face by hitting him, but in the end couldn’t help but laugh.

“‘Misfired’ isn’t the right word for it.”

“Blew up in your face, more like it,” confirmed Rodimus, before snapping his fingers and pointing accusingly at Megatron. “You are doing it again! Distracting me so you don’t have to answer the question!”

“Oh, but why would I want to do that…” said Megatron, not bothering to hide the sarcasm.

Rodimus rolled his eyes and then made himself more comfortable.

“I mean seriously. When’s been the last time you fragged?”

“A few centuries ago.”

Rodimus raised a brow, but did not respond with outright ridicule.

“Really? I mean, it implies you did interface in the centuries before. Why stop?”

“It was merely a distraction. Just as ingesting engex at the bar, it serves no purpose except for cheap stimulation. There is no point to it and can be easily skipped in favor of more productive activities.”

“I get the picture. The great Megatron, too serious, focused and stoic for the pleasures of the world.”

There it finally was, the expected acid and mockery. Megatron did not consider Rodimus’ comment worthy of a response.

“But anyway,” continued Rodimus, “I’m kinda surprised you interfaced at all. Didn’t strike you as the type.”

“Assumed I wouldn’t manage to get laid in five million years?”

“Assumed that you weren’t interested in first place. Some mechs go on their entire life without it and never miss it. But…” Rodimus trailed off. “Yes, I also wondered how in the world the feared leader of Decepticon would even approach courting.”

“I didn’t. Few would dare to approach me, but in in most cases it was impossible to miss that the mech would be honored by my attention.”

“Honored… or frightened scrapless?”

“I didn’t _cow_ people into interfacing with me, if that’s what you’re implying. I never settled for anything less but an eager partner.”

Rodimus drummed his fingers against Megatron’s breastplate, optics reduced to mischievous splits.

“There gotta be some familiar names among your partners…”

“Even if there were, why would I tell you?”

“Oh come on, Megs! Let me at least guess. Was there someone starting with an S?”

“Half of my command’s names begin with an S, not even to speak of the much longer list of all Decepticons who happen to share it as their first letter.”

“So was there or not?”

“Yes, but it hardly…”

“Then you _did_ frag Starscream!”

“And how did you arrive at this illustrious conclusion?” said Megatron in his dryest voice possible.

Rodimus rolled his eyes.

“Come on. No need to deny it. I mean, there clearly is something between you, cloaked in loathing and fiery hatred and…”

“So what of it,” cut off Megatron. “Why does it matter to you?”

“So you did do him!” proclaimed Rodimus.

“It’s the second time you are saying this.”

“Yes, but the first time I wasn’t sure. Now you confirmed it for me.”

Megatron rubbed his forehead in exasperation. He could not deal with Rodimus.

“What about the rest of your command, then? Did…”

“What about you, Rodimus? What is your type?”

“Type? I don’t have a type.” Rodimus blinked.

“Let me guess then. Not many people are you are close with, don’t talk much to people outside of command. But I heard you used to be tight with someone, that you had a second officer: Deadlock. Do you always go for people close to the captain’s chair?”

“His name is Drift and this conversation is over,” snapped Rodimus and stood up. All his playfulness was gone now. Megatron knew he would hit a sore spot. Yes, bringing up Deadlock was a low blow, but Rodimus had deserved it. He will now refrain from prying to close into Megatron’s life in the future.

With Rodimus gone, Megatron was now free to stand up as well. He stretched his body and looked around. They left a mess on the table, and looking down, Megatron could see stains on himself as well.

“Rodimus, do you have anything to clean myself with?”

Rodimus was ignoring Megatron, fussing over the map he’d been doodling on in the beginning.

“Rodimus, answer.”

“Second drawer,” muttered Rodimus.

Megatron nodded and walked over to the desk, to extract self-dampening rags from the drawer. No need for meticulous cleaning. He just had to get rid of the visible stains and to be able to walk the corridors without attracting attention. Proper clean-up would have to wait until he reached his chambers. Still, even basic cleaning procedure was tricky as Megatron had no mirror and the bulky frame obstructed the view of the interfacing array.

When Rodimus approached to grab a rag of his own, Megatron merely stepped aside to give him room. In silence, they went through the motions before Rodimus looked up at Megatron and shook his head.

“You missed a spot,” pointed out Rodimus. As Megatron failed to see the stain Rodimus meant, Rodimus just impatiently rubbed it clean by himself.

Their eyes crossed.

“I help you, you help me?” offered Megatron.

“Deal.”

Rodimus’ cleaning was sloppy, but it was easier for him to spot and rub the plating between the legs and in the back than it would have been for Megatron. The remains of the anger could still be felt in how Rodimus swung around the rag, but being cleaned still felt oddly comforting. Rodimus ran his hands along the sides of the legs, before telling Megatron to turn around.

Soon Rodimus was finished. He handed over the cleaning rag to Megatron and nodded towards him, as if saying “Your turn”. There was a dirty spot on Rodimus cheek. Megatron cleaned it off, while Rodimus was grumpily staring into the distance. Hiding a smile, Megatron went on his hunches to clean the lower body. Rodimus twitched whenever Megatron came up on a sensitive node or bio-light. Megatron tried not to misuse this power too much.

When Megatron was done, Rodimus stretched his limbs and yawned.

“That’s it then.”

Megatron nodded.

“Meeting next week, same time?”

“Yes, as always.” Megatron added: “Next time I’ll make sure to bring a gag.”

Rodimus snorted and then grinned.

“Not opposed to a next time after all?”

Megatron just shrugged.

“Make sure to come prepared,” threw Megatron over his shoulder, before walking out.

“Oh, I will,” muttered Rodimus. He had things in store which Megs had probably never seen in his life. There were a few toys he bought on Hedonia, and then there was the old stuff… yeah, Megs didn’t know that he was getting far more than he bargained for.

Co-captain meetings were going to get a lot more exciting from now on, weren’t they?


End file.
